


Don't Need the Promise of Heaven

by Marvelite5Ever



Category: Deadpool (Comics), Deadpool - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Blood, Deadpool's birthday, Depression, Gen, Gore, I also wanted to practice writing action, I think some humor worked its way into some of the dialogue though, I was depressed when I wrote this, Poor Bob, Violence, Wade has problems, Wade is not mentally sound, Wade won't admit to himself that he has friends, Wade's head-voices makes things both better and worse, at least it wasn't innocent civilians, but it's Deadpool humor so you know, did I mention that already?, he gets violent when he's depressed, headcanon for Wade's age based on the song "Twenty Seven" by MS MR, his birthday makes him depressed, lotsa dead evil minions, lotsa violence, oh god this is so angsty and depressing what did I do, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-12
Updated: 2015-06-12
Packaged: 2018-04-04 01:44:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4121632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marvelite5Ever/pseuds/Marvelite5Ever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deadpool hates birthdays.<br/>Sure, birthday parties for other people can be fun to crash, but birthdays generally suck when nobody invites you over to parties, and when you don't have friends to spend your birthday with. It makes birthdays depressing rather than exciting.<br/>Wade doesn't even remember when his birthday actually is, what with his brain being so fucked-up—but everybody has to have a birthday, right?<br/>So Wade chose one for himself: February 29th.  That way he only has to suffer through having a birthday every four years.<br/>And it's always such a drag to keep turning 27 over and over again.<br/>At least he has his head-voices to help him deal with it. </p><p>And there's nothing like killing a buncha guys to make you feel older.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Need the Promise of Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this fic and the headcanon for Wade's age come from the song "Twenty Seven" by MS MR. Though I feel like it's unfair to the awesome song to say that this fic was based on it. Only the title and a few lines were. The song is awesome and doesn't deserve this. 
> 
> Basically, though, Wade angsts and kills Hydra agents (but not Bob, don't worry - Bob remains uninjured, at least physically). 
> 
> I'm pretty sure this is the most violent thing I've written. 
> 
> But I was kinda depressed and writing this made me feel better, so maybe somebody who feels like reading something depressing will enjoy it...?

Deadpool hated birthdays. 

Sure, birthday parties for other people can be fun to crash, but birthdays generally sucked when nobody invited you over to parties, and when you didn't have friends to spend your birthday with. It made birthdays depressing rather than exciting.

Wade didn't even remember when his birthday actually was, what with his brain being so fucked-up—but everybody had to have a birthday, right? 

So Wade chose one for himself: February 29th. That way he only had to suffer through having a birthday once every four years. 

Today just happened to be one of those very rare February 29ths. 

Wade sat on his beat-up, shot-up old couch, staring at the wall above the TV, which, for once while he was at home, was turned off. 

It was a very interesting wall. Off-white. Splattered with stains from old blood. His, probably. 

Wade stared at it, brown eyes dull as shit, willing his head-voices to shut up. 

They wouldn't. 

So he just tuned them out. 

{HAPPY 27th BIRTHDAY!}

[Again. Not that you'd know we were 27 by looking at our face. The disgusting ugliness makes us look older, doesn't it?] 

{HAPPY 27th BIRTHDAY TO YOU! HAPPY 27th BIRTHDAY TO YOU! HAPPY 27th BIRTHDAY DEAR WAAAAAAADE! HAPPY 27th BIRTHDAY TO YOU!}

[You've made it all the way to age 27! Again!] 

{Aren't you happy? Remember back in your Weapon X days, when you got the cancer diagnosis at the young age of 25? How you signed up for Weapon X as a 26th birthday present, with only an estimated month to live? You never even believed in God, but you kept praying to live past the age of 27. You REALLY wanted to pass that benchmark.}

[And you never really did get to your 27th birthday, did you? Cuz Weapon X would have had to give you the healing factor before the month was up, which would mean you got the healing factor before your 27th birthday, and since you haven't aged since you got the healing factor...] 

{But we can turn 27 once every four years! And then four years later we can turn 27 again! Isn't it fun?}

[There's definitely an advantage to not actually knowing our birth date.]

{Yeah, we have no idea how many years it's been since we were born. Can't even keep track of how many years we've had this ugly mug.}

[Knowing you, your birthday was probably somewhere between June 21 and July 22.] 

{Yeah, we're totally a Cancer. You do realize that choosing our birthday to be February 29th would make as an Aries, right? Fucking Aries...}

[Active, Demanding, Determined, Effective, Ambitious.]

{...Actually, that kinda fits. The Zodiac guy is a bastard though. What about Cancer?}

[Emotion, Diplomatic, Intensity, Impulsive, Selective.]

{Well, the Emotion, Intensity, and Impulsive sounds right. What the hell does Selective mean?}

[That we're selective in who we kill?]

{Are we?}

[Sometimes.]

{Oh hey! You know what we should do to celebrate our Aries-not-Cancer birthday? We should go out and kill a bunch of people, being extremely un-Selective about it!}

[Didn't we do that four years ago?] 

{Well, it's either kill a buncha people or watch TV all day in the apartment and never once set foot outside.}

[I'm pretty sure we did that eight years ago.] 

{Wow, he's sure being quiet. You got any input, Deadpool?}

Deadpool kept silently staring at the wall. 

[Looks like we'll just have to make his decision for him.] 

{Oh hey, we could play a birthday game!}

[Like what?] 

{I was thinking Russian Roulette.}

[Ooh, that one's fun! Especially since I always come back online first, and I get a few minutes all to myself without your yellow/bold blabbering!] 

{On second thought...}

[Aww, c'mon!]

{Let's go out a kill a buncha people! That always makes us feel better! I mean seriously, is anyone else choking on all the depression in here?}

[Is depression what it is? And here I was thinking somebody just turned all the lights off. And then found a fog machine.] 

{C'mon, Deadpool! Get up! You're not really gonna sit there staring at the wall for your entire Special Day, are you? Let's go hit a Hydra base!}

[We'll have to make sure it's not the base that Bob is currently stationed at, though.]

{Or if it is, make sure that we don't kill Bob.}

[We could never kill Bob by accident. He's too good at hiding.]

{But just be safe, let's not hit the one that he was stationed at.}

[Do we even know what base he's currently stationed at?]

{Uh...}

[Thought so.]

{Well, like you said, we could never kill him by accident.}

[Right! Let's do it!]

Wade kept sitting there staring at the wall. 

[Now we just have to get the driver on board with the plan...]

{HEY! DEADPOOL!}

Wade's head snapped up, eyes focusing for the first time in hours.

{GET OFF YOUR ASS AND GRAB YOUR GUNS AND SWORDS AND EXPLODY MATERIALS! WE'RE GOING TO FIND A HYDRA BASE AND DO SOME PRO BONO WORK!}

Wade got up and started gathering his weapons together. He was wearing the Deadpool suit, except for the mask, which was in a crumpled heap on the floor from when Wade had taken it off so it wouldn't be in the way when he tried to cut off his real face. 

{DONT' FORGET OUR FACE!}

Wade picked up the mask and put it on. He blinked, and then it was Deadpool that looked around and grinned. 

“Hey guys!” Deadpool said cheerily. “What's the plan? We going somewhere? I think I kinda zoned out there for a bit...”

{We're going on a killing spree! Whee!}

[Yeah, we're gonna kill a buncha Bob's coworkers so that he'll get paid more.] 

“Awesome! Sounds like fun!” Wade grinned, sheathing his katanas, holstering his guns, filling his pouches with grenades, slipping knifes up his sleeves and inside his boots. Oh, and an extra gun in the back of the pants. (Don't ask how it fits under the tight red spandex. Just don't.)

“Let's go kill some people!” Deadpool declared, stance wide, hands on his hips, chin up. Two acrobatic steps later and he was at his window, pulling up and vaulting out into the pre-dawn city, racing over rooftops. “What's the occasion again?” he asked, a dark silhouette moving swiftly and quietly against the light-polluted sky. 

{It's our b—}

[Our buddy Bob, remember?! We're helping him out by killing off his competition!] 

{—Right, that's it! And also we're making life difficult for Hydra because of how evil they were in the 'Captain America: The Winter Soldier' movie!}

“Works for me,” Deadpool shrugged in the middle of a double flip [Show off.], landing smoothly in a crouch and launching back into a sprint. “So, how are we getting to the random Hydra base? Because I'm pretty sure there isn't one within running distance.” 

[Steal a jet from Stark. Duh.] 

{Yeah, he owes us a present for our b—}

[For our buddy! And to punish Hydra for leaving him out of that movie!] 

{—anyways!} 

Deadpool grinned. “Right, of course. Do we need to grab the spray paint first?” 

{No, we don't need to owe him cuz it's—}

[Pro bono work! Remember? We're doing this for the good of society!] 

{And for u—}

[Bob! FOR SOCIETY AND BOB!] 

{FOR ASGARD!} 

[...No, just society and Bob.] 

{And the au—}

[Hey, don't touch the Fourth Wall! It's the only one that doesn't have blood splatters all over it!] 

As Deadpool stole one of Stark's jets, he started singing the song 'Paparazzi' by Lady Gaga under his breath. 

He changed to the song 'Chandelier' by SIA as he took off in the stolen jet, belting out the lyrics at the top of his lungs. 

xXx

[Now. How should we make our dramatic entrance?]

{In style, of course. With lots of explosions! How else?}

[How else indeed.]

KA-BOOOOOM! 

The awesome sound effect was accompanied by a blazing inferno of heat and pure, raw destruction, the red, orange and yellow flames crackling like poprocks and dancing like chorus girls as a dark, sword-wielding silhouette emerged from the blaze like a demon from hell. 

{Ooh, dramatic narration. I like!} 

The Hydra agents in the room poked their green heads up from behind the machinery they'd taken cover behind, standing up and beginning to stalk forward, pointing their guns at the intruder.  
“I'm giving you guys one chance to run away,” Deadpool growled out, katanas bared, eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. “But as soon as you attack me, I'm going to kill you. Got it?” 

One lone Hydra agent squeacked and took off running in the other direction. 

{That was Bob.}

[Gotta admire those survival skills.] 

“Was that the only intelligent person in the whole lot'a you?” Deadpool asked the group of green-and-yellow-clad agents of evil world domination, his tone amused and shivering with the anticipation of violence and blood and gore. 

In answer, even more armed Hydra agents streamed into the room, all pointing their guns at Deadpool. 

“OPEN FIRE!” one of them shouted. “HAIL HYDRA! HYDRA SHALL REIGN SUPREME!” 

“HAIL HYDRA!” the rest of the the ridiculously-outfitted hoard of agents chorused, opening fire. 

“What is it, my birthday? You guys really are too kind to all attack me at once like this with your very deadly guns that shoot very deadly bullets!” Deadpool said gleefully as he flipped and spun through the air, katanas as silver blur around him as they reflected bullets right back at the agents. “You guys can thank Ryan Reynolds for that move!” 

The voices in Deadpool's head remained surprisingly silent, for once allowing him to fully focus on the mayhem he was causing. Bullets riddled his body but did absolutely nothing to slow him down, even when there was a hole blasted through his chest so large that the Hydra agents could see right through his ribs, beyond his spine to the fires still eating the wall behind him. 

“There's a reason Hugh Jackman was just the co-star of that movie,” Deadpool said, the cheer in his voice an uncanny contrast to the serious and deadly poise in which he cut the Hydra agents down and left them in bloody pieces on the floor, “and that it was actually all about me, even if they took away my greatest weapon of all and then tried to make up for it by giving me like fifty different x-genes that were totally way more lame!” 

Despite how many Hydra agents Deadpool was felling with each blurring swipe of his katanas, more just kept coming, with shouts of: “HAIL HYDRA!” and: “CUT OFF ONE HEAD, TWO MORE WILL TAKE ITS PLACE!” 

The second catchphrase being one that Deadpool kept disproving, lopping off green-and-yellow masked heads and batting them with the broad side of his swords into the coming throng. “Really? Cuz I'm not seeing any two-headed dudes getting up off the floor to attack me! And I mean, with how easily you Hydra guys go down, and how many of you there are, if what you say was really, true, this country would have a bad case of multi-headed guys bumbling around!” 

Deadpool's fighting wasn't that of unleashed fury, or even controlled fury. No, it was more the cold, precise movements of a killing machine, perfectly programmed for annihilation. 

[Mad Max : Fury Road OST-12 Brother In Arms (Extended Version)]

{EPIC BOSS BATTLE MUSIC!}

“Oh, there you guys are!” Deadpool said, as the Hydra hoards closed in around him, practically throwing themselves onto Deadpool's swords. “Decided to show up again for the party, huh?”  
Hydra agents were decapitated, lobotomized, eviscerated, mutilated. And they just kept coming, with screams of: “HAIL HYDRA!” 

[And here I thought WE were a suicidal idiot...] 

{I think your comment had tense problems.}

[Oh fuck you.] 

{You do realize that, in this instance, you saying 'fuck you' to me is the same as saying 'go fuck yourself' which is also the same as saying 'fuck me'?} 

[Shut up.] 

{YOU shut up!} 

“Ladies, ladies,” Deadpool chided as he skewered four Hydra agents on a katana with a single stab, “please don't start a sissy-fight up in there, I can't grab some popcorn and watch cuz I'm a little busy killing idiots for the helluva it.” 

The sword was pulled from their bodies, and he gave the first man's chest a mighty kick, sending the four dead (or soon-to-be-dead, anyway) agents falling backwards like dominoes, crashing into their line of replacements. 

{Well, the growing back two heads thing might be wrong, but there really do seem to be two more guys to take the place of every guy we kill.} 

[You know, sometimes I wonder if Hydra gets all these guys by cloning...]

{But then there's Bob.}

[Bob could be the exception. Or maybe they're all clones of Bob, and our Bob is the only real Bob!] 

“At least we're all getting along now,” Deadpool grinned. “More or less, anyways.” 

He whirled around in a Link-esque sword swing, cutting down all the agents around him within swords-reach. 

By this point, the ground was covered in a deep layer of blood and organs. Deadpool's costume was tattered with bulletholes, and the material that still managed to cling to his body (what body there was of him—so many of his bones were visible he bore a startling resemblance to Death {only not as pretty} and his stomach had probably fallen out of his abdominal cavity a while back [which at least means we won't have to worry about throwing up]) was a deeper red than it had been at the start of the fight. It was so red it was dripping, trickling darkly over his skin like thick cherry juice, glistening on his pale lips. 

[Anyone else getting a little bit disturbed by the imagery in the narration?] 

“Nah,” Deadpool said, suddenly finding that there was more room to maneuver as the number of agents thinned and the number of bullets tearing him apart lessened, allowing him to pull off more impressive stunts, once more able to flip through the air to deliver impressive kicks that could break noses easily and maybe cave in skulls just a little. 

Drops of sanguine sprayed from his body as he moved, like water droplets from a wet dog shaking his fur, only darker and smelling of the heavy tang of copper—rather than, you know, like wet dog.  
Landing on one knee, Deadpool plunged his katanas in the chests of the last two remaining agents. 

For a moment, nothing moved. 

Deadpool was panting, a grin stretched over his wasted face that was half-visible through the tattered mask. Blood trickled into his eyes. His nose was filled with the scent, his mouth permeated with the taste. 

His mind felt clear as the waters of a tropical beach and sharp enough to cut diamond. Adrenalin and endorphins pumping through his blood like it was a race.  
His entire body thrummed—with glee, with the cancer, with the healing factor. 

Deadpool never felt more alive than when he was surrounded by death. 

Standing up with slow, careful grace, Deadpool stepped over bodies, his boots squelching with each step, till he found a dead Hydra agent with a uniform clean enough to wipe his katanas on.  
The green suit turned brown as the red blades turned silver. 

{Maybe we should go find Bob now? Make sure he's still alive and hasn't crapped himself?}

[And to use him as a hostage for when the Avengers show up.] 

{The Avengers are gonna show up?}

[Don't you hear that unmistakable sound of righteousness descending down upon us?]

“Hopefully Bob didn't see too much of that,” Deadpool said nonchalantly as he sheathed his katanas and began striding deeper into the base. “We already star in a disproportionate amount of his nightmares, the poor fellow.” 

[Is that CARE I detect in thy voice?]

{Gasp! Does DEADPOOL admit to having a FRIEND?}

“Shut up,” Deadpool said as he walked down the cold, metal halls, tracking smeared red footprints on the chrome floor. “Bob's not my friend. He's more like my... pet. Or minion. Definitely minion. We've been over this already. 'Sides, we don't want the Avengers to find Bob the only Hydra agent left living in the place, and decide to interrogate him. Or try to use him against us!” 

[Which they wouldn't be able to do... unless we actually CARED...] 

{Good thing we DON'T care, huh?} 

There was a high-pitched scream.

“Well, that was either Iron Man walking in on the carnage we left, or that was Bob peeking out of his hiding place and seeing us,” Deadpool mused. 

[Ten bucks says it was Iron Man.] 

{Hey, you can't bet my ten bucks!} 

“Ah, there you are!” Deadpool said cheerfully, finding Bob curled up trembling in an air vent that he'd forgotten to pull the grating back up over. 

“...M-Mr. W-w-wilson?” Bob stuttered. “I-is that y-you?” 

“Yes, it's me,” Deadpool said, keeping his voice low, calm. “Don't open your eyes, okay? I look worse than Freddie Krueger right now, and I don't want you to have to see that—and I mean, yeah, I always look worse than Freddie Krueger—except that I have a much better build, thank you very much, I'm just talking skin-wise—but right now I mean worst-worse. As in, Freddie Krueger turned into a zombie.”  
Bob squeaked at the stickiness on Deadpool's hand as the mercenary helped him out of the air vent. “You know, Mr. Wilson, sir... I'm wiling to be thtat what your description made me imagine is worse than what you actually look like...” 

“Sorry,” Deadpool shrugged, pulling out a gun and pressing it to the side of Bob's head with a click, as footsteps and the sound of thrusters echoed towards them down the hall. Bob stiffened and whimpered softly, but kept his eyes tightly closed.

“I actually don't want you to open your eyes so you won't see the gun I'm pointing to your head, or the faces of the Avengers after seeing the state of the room after my party,” Deadpool explained. “I broke quite a bit of furniture, and some of the guys got pretty trashed.” 

“DEADPOOL!” Iron Man yelled, flying straight at him, only to pull up short as he saw the gun the merc had pointed to the Hydra agent's head. “WHAT. DID. YOU. DO?!”  
Deadpool shrugged. “Threw a birthday party. Things got a little out of hand.” 

It was probably a good thing Tony was in his Iron Man armor, so that Deadpool couldn't see his red face, throbbing forehead vein, and the bit of vomit still on his lips. 

“YOU—!” Iron Man spluttered, as Captain America came charging down the hall as well, pulling up short behind his teammate as Deadpool pressed the gun harder against the Hydra agent's temple.  
Bob whimpered. “Please, Mr. Wilson... don't k-kill me...” 

“Shut up,” Deadpool growled into his ear, making Bob whimper harder. And oh, okay, it sounded like he was crying now. 

{You made Bob CRY, you big meanie!}

[FEEL GUILTY.] 

“Shut up,” Deadpool growled again, wrapping a hand over Bob's mouth so he couldn't point out that he hadn't said anything. 

Raising his voices, Deadpool called to the avengers with a grin: “Why, it's Stony! Fancy seeing you here!” 

“Deadpool,” Captain America ground out, fists clenched at his sides, his half-mask not enough to hide the righteous fury all over his face. “We need to apprehend you. What you did back there?” he gestured back the way they'd come. “That was mass-homicide.”

“No, it was self-defense!” Deadpool protested. “They attacked me first!” 

“After you attacked their base?” Iron Man asked pointedly. 

“Well, yeah,” Deadpool said, shrugging, pressing harder against the quietly-sobbing Bob's head. “But I wouldn't'a killed 'em if they hadn't shot me up first!” 

“What did you do it for?” Captain America demanded. And oh, he was definitely trembling with righteous anger. He looked about read to blow a gasket. “Revenge? Money?”

“Neither, actually,” Deadpool said with another shrug. “It's my birthday, and Hydra didn't accept my party invitation, so I decided to bring the party to them, but then they tried to kill me, so I killed them.”  
Captain America just stared at him with furiously narrowed eyes. “Wilson,” he ground out. 

“Stay right where you are!” Iron Man said, raising his hand, the blue repulsor in his palm charging up. 

Bob whimpered loudly. 

“Well, it was nice seein' you guys!” Wade said cheerfully, before uncovering Bob's mouth and pressing a button on his belt, teleporting away. 

xXx

{Why didn't we use the teleporter earlier?}

[Plot convenience.] 

{Ah. Of course.}

“Sorry you had to get caught up in that, Bob,” Deadpool said, as he and the Hydra agent appeared in Weasel's Weasel Cave, causing the nerdy genius to yelp and fall out of his office chair in surprise.  
“Here,” Deadpool shoved a large wad of cash into Bob's hands, “this should help you out till Hydra re-hires you again. Tell them you didn't get killed cuz you happened to have had to go number two at the time I attacked, and it was one of those ones that takes forever and makes your legs go numb you have to wait so long, and I forgot to check the potties, kay?” 

Bob nodded dumbly, staring at the large wad of cash, the tears drying on his cheeks. “Thanks, Mr. Wilson! If I didn't bring in the dough Allison would kill me...” 

“Oh, and Weasel,” Wade said, throwing another wad of green bills at the skinny dude in glasses, who caught them. “That's compensation for if Bob goes all PTSD on you. See ya!” 

Then he teleported away again, leaving Bob relieved and Weasel confused and not wanting to ask. 

xXx

Wade arrived back in his apartment. He stripped off the useless pieces of suit and threw them away, took a hot shower with a knife that he used to scrape the blood out from beneath his fingernails with, then tossed on boxers and a t-shirt and went to go sit on the couch, turning on the TV and flipping through the channels, never settling on one for more than a few seconds. 

[Well, that was a fun 27th birthday!]

{I already feel older! All these deaths that we don't feel guilty about, weighing down on us...}

[What now? There's nothing good on TV, man!]

{I think we still have time to play Russian Roulette...}

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what I've done... I feel evil or something...


End file.
